Identity
by Slytheringirl777
Summary: One night, Zoe Weston's parents are brutally murdered by Voldemort. Instead of killing the girl, he takes her, and gives her to one of his Death Eaters. Now a teenager Zoe, or Desiree as she as now known, may discover her true identity.
1. Taken

A warm spring breeze drifted through the open window of the cozy home and into the nursery where one year old Zoe Weston lay watching the charmed mobile go in circles above her crib. The young girl was kept company by several stuffed animals, a prized unicorn getting the favored spot within the crook of her arm. The little girl yawned and the mobile continued around and around…

Down the hall Mr. and Mrs. Weston were enjoying a glass of wine by the fireplace. They were a young couple, in their mid 20s, having been married for two years. They had been housemates in Gryffindor during their time at Hogwarts and what started as a friendship had soon turned into romance. After graduation, he got a job as a librarian at a library in Diagon Alley and she found a place designing clothing for Madam Malkins. It had been one month after their marriage that Albus Dumbledore had approached them with the request they join the Order of the Phoenix. They agreed almost immediately. While both had come from pureblood families, neither believed this made them superior in anyway, and as many of their friends were members, they too joined. They had offered their time, their wisdom, and even risked their life once or twice in the past two years, but as they saw it, it was worth it. They wanted to raise their daughter, Zoe, in a world that was free of prejudice. They wanted her to live without fear of he-who-must-not- be -named.

Mr. Weston smiled as his wife cuddled closer to him. "Happy Anniversary, love," he whispered. She smiled back, about to reply, when the sound of breaking glass startled them both. The noise had come from the kitchen. There was a crack of apparition and suddenly they found themselves facing a man, tall, thin, and pale. Shaking himself out of a state of shock Mr. Weston reached for his wand. "What do you want with us?" he asked.

"Steven and Catherine Weston," the high pitched voice of Voldemort greeted them. "Word has it that you are responsible for the imprisonment of several of my friends." He noticed Steven's movement and raised his own wand sending a disarming spell at the man. "That would suggest you have power, and yet, I am able to disarm you in one try," he continued, catching the wand. "Can it be that Dumbledore really—"

"Stupefy!" screamed Catherine, pointing her own wand at Voldemort. She was on her feet now, standing firm, in between her husband and the Dark Lord. Voldemort blocked her spell easily. "Resistance," he commented. "Brave, but not successful. I am displeased with you. Purebloods, associating with muggle filth, having my Death Eaters sent to Azkaban. You will die tonight for what you have done."

Steven stood, joining his wife. "Then we will die for a cause we believe in," he said. "And we will die with a fight." With those words he ran towards Voldemort hoping that it would give Catherine a chance to shoot a spell. He was dead within two steps. Catherine shouted a disarming spell but it was no use, it missed, and Voldemort was now turning toward her. She dodged the first jet of green light by inches and ducked behind the couch. Raising her head just an inch she cast a stunner. It was deflected and she had to duck down again to miss getting hit with her own spell. A moment later and the couch in front of her exploded, leaving her exposed. As the dust cleared, she found herself looking up into the emotionless face of the Dark Lord. She raised her wand, but was not quick enough. There was a flash of green light, and then nothing.

Voldemort looked down at the bodies on the floor. Two more of the Order were dead. They had been easy to kill. He was about to apparate out of the home when a sound reached his ears. Somewhere in the house a child was laughing.

Zoe had not been frightened by the noises from the other room. Quite the opposite, they had made her curious, thinking that Mummy and Daddy must have the wireless on. As the door to her room began to open she used the bars of the crib to help her stand, waiting for her parents to come in and play. She did not recognize the figure in the doorway. "Dada?" she said quietly as the man approached. She gasped as her blue eyes met his red ones.

For some reason he didn't want to kill the child. It would have been the easy thing to do, and would make clean work of the family. She was gazing at him, not in fear, but in curiosity, and he remembered that unlike her parents, this child had yet to choose an allegiance. She was, he realized, a pureblood, and he knew how few their numbers were these days. He smirked as an idea occurred to him. He could send the girl to join her parents, or he could keep her from them. Them and the Order. He laughed to himself as he plucked the child from the crib. He was not done punishing the Westons. If, somehow, they were able to view the world of the living from the land of the death, they would have to watch as he took their daughter, not to kill her, but to take her away, to be raised in the home of a Death Eater.

An hour later a young Death Eater stood before the Dark Lord. "I have a mission for you Travers," Voldemort rasped. "One that I think will help you avenge yourself on the Order for the death of your wife."

Anthony Travers eyes widened. It had been three months since his pregnant wife had been killed in battle with aurors. The unborn child had died with her. "My Lord," he whispered. "I would do anything that would avenge Melissa's death."

A smirk crossed Voldemort's pale face. "Good," he said. He crossed the room to a bed in the corner and lifted the now sleeping child from it. "The child of Order members," he explained. "She is a pureblood. You are to raise her as if she was your own, is that clear Travers?"

The man nodded. "Yes my Lord," he said, emotion coursing through him. A child! A second chance at being a father. The girl was passed to him and he took her in his arms. "Thank you my Lord," he whispered gazing down at the girl.

"Do not fail me Travers," Voldemort warned. "And Travers? She is never to know she is not your blood relative."

Travers nodded, and with that the Dark Lord was gone. Travers shifted the weight of the girl in his arms. "Desiree," he whispered. "Desiree Melissa Travers." The young girl continued to sleep, unaware that her identity had been changed. "Thank you," Travers whispered again, and then, making sure that the girl was safe in his arms, apparated home.


	2. Bedtime Stories

DISCLAIMER: I AM NOT JK ROWLING

"Daddy!" Seven-year-old Desiree Travers bolted from her own bedroom and down the hall. "Daddy!" she shrieked again, poking her head into his room, seeing him already getting out of bed to comfort her.

"Des, what is it?" Anthony Travers asked the girl who, for six years now, had been his daughter. "Did you have a nightmare again?" he asked as he took her hand and began to lead her to the kitchen. Desiree nodded.

"Yes, a real scary one this time!" she insisted. "I dreamed I was all alone and it was dark and there were aurors coming for me," she explained looking up at him with concern. "Like they came for Mama," she said quietly. She couldn't remember her mother, but her father had explained that she had been killed by aurors when Desiree was only a year old.

"Aurors wouldn't come for such an adorable little girl like you," Travers assured her before instructing the house elf to make two mugs of hot cocoa. "And even if they did, I'd protect you." Desiree gave a small smile and crawled into his lap. "Tell me about Mama again," she said resting her head against his chest.

Travers smiled. Six years ago he had panicked when he realized he would have to explain the sudden appearance of a one year old daughter, but when it came to it, it hadn't been that hard. Those who were just acquaintances thought that yes, perhaps he did already have a daughter, that it was his second child he had been expecting when his wife died. After all, they didn't know Travers that well, and with all these young couples having children, well, it would have been easy to forget who belonged to whom. Closer friends and family were harder to explain the situation too. His parents and in-laws, who both knew of and shared his allegiance with the Dark Lord, had questioned no further when he mumbled something about a mission. They accepted Desiree as their granddaughter, as if she always had been. Other family and friends became much less suspicious after a few confundus charms and memory spells, and by the time that Desiree was celebrating her second birthday it was if no one could recall that there had never been a first birthday celebration.

That had left only Desiree herself to convince. The first few weeks were hellish. The baby had cried for her parents, screamed for her home and the old cat that at times had kept watch of the nursery. Travers had been patient. He was not rude or unkind to the child. Instead he pampered her, referred to himself as Daddy and soon she grew accustomed to her new surroundings and one day, five weeks after he received her, she had looked up at him and called him "Dada". It was then he knew that he was successful in his mission.

Later that year the Dark Lord had fallen, defeated by a boy no older than Desiree. Most ongoing missions ceased immediately, either because the Death Eaters behind them were arrested, or they were doing their best to avoid arrest. Travers, however, continued his mission. He had avoided suspicion as a Death Eater. After all, he had been tried after the death of his wife and found innocent, and there had been no evidence to suggest otherwise since then. He had made a promise to the Dark Lord that he would raise the girl and when Voldemort returned—which Travers believed he one day would—he would show that he had not given up, and had raised a daughter to belief in pureblood supremacy.

"Your mother was lovely," he told Desiree. "She was energetic, intelligent, and full of life." He smiled. "You have her eyes," he said, and it wasn't far from the truth. The girl's blue eyes reminded him of Melissa's.

"But your hair!" Desiree said with a smile, having heard this before.

He laughed and ruffled the chocolate brown hair. "Yeah, my hair," he said.

"Why did the aurors take Mama away?" Desiree asked, accepting the cocoa from the elf.

"Because they didn't like her beliefs," Travers explained. "The aurors liked muggles, and because Mama didn't , they fought her."

"Meanies," Desiree said taking a sip of the cocoa. "Who were they Daddy? What happened to them? Did they go to Azkaban?" she asked.

He shook his head. "No, the ministry was on their side. They went free." He paused, gazing down at her. "But they were punished eventually," he said.

She looked up, curious; she hadn't heard this part of the story before. "How?" she asked.

"They were caught by other supporters of the Dark Lord," Travers explained. "A friend of your mother, Bellatrix Lestrange, tracked them down, and along with other Death Eaters, hurt them for what they did."

She was staring at him wide eyed now. "Did she use crucio?" she asked.

Travers nodded. "Yes," he said simply. "Remember I told you, that is what happens to muggle lovers."

Desiree nodded, awed by what he was telling her. "Did she hurt them a lot?" she asked.

"She did," he confirmed. "They are now in St. Mungos. They're crazy," he explained. "Their names were the Longbottoms. They took your mother from us, but in the end, their minds were taken from them."

Desiree snuggled closer to him. "I'm glad they can't get me," she whispered.

"Me too," he agreed, draining his own mug of hot cocoa. "Do you think you'll be able to sleep now?"

Desiree nodded. "If you tuck me in," she said.

"Of course," he picked her up, and carried her to her room, helping her into the bed. She was half asleep by the time he turned off the light. "Goodnight baby," he whispered, and then made his way back to his own room. On the nightstand was a picture of Melissa. He let out a sigh, each time Desiree mentioned her he was reminded how the girl came to him. That she was not really his. 'Stop that,' he told himself. 'She's yours, she's your daughter.' He took another look at the picture and then with a flick of his wand shut off the light. He would continue his mission, he would raise Desiree, and no auror would be able to stop him.


	3. Absence of Owl Post

From her spot on the couch, Desiree saw the fire glow green across the room. A head popped into view. "Travers! Hey, cootie -breath!" Desiree rolled her eyes, and ignored the voice. This was one of her favorite spots in the house for a reason—she could see the floo, but the people in it couldn't see her.

"Aww, come on, Travers, I know you're there, likely reading that silly book on unicorns," Desiree shifted Unicorns of the World closer to her body, offended at the silly comment, "but anyway, I just had to tell you that I got my letter today! Oh yeah, Travers, I'm going to Hogwarts, so if you were hoping I was a squib or that Father would send me to Durmstrang well—"

Desiree snapped the book shut and sprung across the room. "You got your letter, Malfoy?" she asked, addressing the blonde boy. He grinned, "Knew you were there, Travers," he said with a smirk. "And yes I did, the whole letter right down to the part about how they won't even let us bring a bloody broom our first year and—"

"You got it today?" she interrupted again. "With today's post?"

"No, Travers, I got it last week," Malfoy said sarcastically. "Of course I got it today! They send them out all at once you know."

"Yeah, I know," Desiree said looking over to the table where today's only piece of mail, a bill from the daily prophet, sat.

"Well than you should know that—"he stopped. "Merlin, you don't have it do you?" He asked seeing the confusion on her face. "You don't!"

"Shut up, Malfoy!" Desiree hissed, remembering how much of a prat he was. "Just because your mother was friends with mine doesn't mean I can't curse you into next week!"

"Well, seeing as you don't have your wand yet you can't."

"I said shut up!" she repeated giving him a loathing glare. "The post just hasn't arrived today, that's all," she lied. "Wings is an old owl, he probably is just taking his time."

He laughed. "You tell yourself that, Travers. I'm going to talk to Goyle, see if he's missing it too, maybe they only let smart people in." He gave her a smirk and then before she could yell at him pulled his head out of the fire. As soon as he was gone she sprinted over to the table, to make sure that there was really only that one bill. That a Hogwarts letter wasn't attached to it. Nothing. She frowned. What had she been doing this morning when the mail arrived? Pouring milk on to her cereal, the hoot of the owl had startled her and made her pour too much. Dad had taken the mail; he certainly wouldn't have hidden the letter from her. She sighed, turning the bill from the Prophet over in her hands, as if it would turn into a Hogwarts letter. It was still awhile until Dad would get home from work for lunch, she would just have to wait until then. He would know what to do. She went back to the sitting room and picked up her book. Within a few minutes it took her attention again, and she had almost forgotten about the absence of the letter when her father arrived for lunch.

"How's my Des today?" Anthony Travers asked as the house elf scuttled about preparing soup and sandwiches for lunch.

"Daddy!" she exclaimed running into the room to greet him. "Daddy! That annoying prat Malfoy—"

"Draco, honey, his name is Draco, remember?"

"Yes, well anyway, he flooed. He said he got his Hogwarts letter today!" she exclaimed. "And you know, they send them all out on the same day so everyone gets them at the same time but, "she stared down at the bill, "Mine didn't show."

"Well they send out their own owls for that, maybe yours is a little slow," Travers suggested to her with a smile. Inside, though, he was slightly panicking as he thought back ten years. It was common knowledge that there was a book at Hogwarts that had the name of every young witch or wizard in Britain from the time of their birth. What was a little less known was that while it knew when a witch or wizard was born and where they lived, its magic pretty much stopped there. Taking a name off the list—or adding to it with a quill and ink as was often done when a family moved into the area or the book had a slight malfunction and missed 3 births in Wales over two weeks—was quite simple. He had seen it done himself a decade ago. Narcissa's husband was on the board of governors, and had easily accommodated the Dark Lord's request to get the book to Travers for a few minutes. In that time he had vanished the name of Weston, Zoe C. and wrote in Travers, Desiree M. Simple. Nothing to worry about, until now. Apparently, the letter had not arrived. "Or maybe Draco is pulling your leg and he hasn't got the letter yet at all," he offered. "It does seem a bit early."

Her face turned to fury. "Ooo, I bet that's it! That would be just like Malfoy!" She glared toward the fire as if Malfoy was still there and could see her. "Well, he won't do it again; I'm on to him now." She took her seat at the table and set to eating lunch. Although still angry at Malfoy, she was feeling much better now that she realized that of course, her Dad had to be right, Malfoy was just being an arse like usual. When lunch was over, she headed outside to play on the swing set out back, and her father headed back to work. Everything seemed normal again, and she was assured that the letter would arrive soon.

Travers, however, was not assured that all was fine. He had double checked with Narcissa, just in case Draco was pulling a prank, and learned that the boy had indeed received his letter, along with all his other friends. Desiree, it seemed, was the only 11 year old witch in Britain who hadn't received one. He frowned, it just didn't make sense. Lucius had told him how the entries and omissions were made to the book and he had followed the procedure perfectly. There was no reason that she shouldn't have received a letter. Unless, he told himself, the book has more magic than Lucius was willing to give it credit for. But even then, shouldn't have a letter arrived? If not for Desiree, for Zoe. The letters were very precise on addresses. He remembered getting his own. It had not only his house, but his room (2nd bedroom on the left). He glanced up at the clock, there was still an hour and a half left before he could go home to solve this mystery. Cursing the fact that he had a late meeting, he tried to push the problem from his mind for now. Desiree was pleased with his explanation at the moment, and therefore, he still had time.

But not much time. When he came home, it was to find Desiree in tears. "Even Malfoy's stupid friend Goyle got a letter!" she told him. "When I told him that I thought he was making the whole thing up he came over here and showed me! It's real." She had kicked the house elf at this point, which just made her more upset because she really didn't like to do it much harm, and then stalked off to her room.

It was a tense night. Between Desiree's upset mood and her father's growing concern that his mission had not been successful, one could almost feel that something was amiss in the air. When at last they fell asleep, they both had nightmares. She dreamed she had shown up at Kings Cross and was running toward the barrier when she crashed into it, sprawling to the ground. Malfoy appeared, trademark smirk on his face. "Squib!" he accused and then walked right through the barrier, along with everyone else on the platform, leaving her alone.

Anthony's dreams were equally unsettling. Letters kept falling from the sky on top of him. He picked up one of them. Instead of a name it read, SHE'S NOT YOURS. He threw it down in disgust and picked up another one. YOU DON'T HAVE A DAUGHTER. Again he threw it down and frantically picked up another one, this one containing a name. Zoe C. Weston. With a scream of rage he ripped it in two, but the letters kept falling and falling and falling.

"Miss Desiree, Miss, wake up!" The squeaky voice of the house elf reached her ears. "No, got to get through, I'm a witch," Desiree muttered swatting her hand out at the source of the noise. "Miss should get up!" The elf repeated. "Breakfast is ready and the mail is here! There is a letter for Miss Desiree!"

Desiree stirred, and then the realization of what the elf said hit. "A letter?" She swung her legs out of bed and placed her feet in her slippers. "For me?" The elf nodded and Desiree ran down the hall to the kitchen. There, sitting in her chair, was an owl, and in its mouth was an envelope. She let out a whoop and grabbed it from its beak, holding out a slice of toast for payment.

"Miss Desiree Melissa Travers, bedroom with the window seat, number 3, Cherry Road, London," she read. She tore it open. "Dad!" she screamed as she read the first sentence. "Dad come here!"

Fearing the worst, Anthony ran into the room to find his daughter grinning at him. "Listen!" she insisted and then began to read aloud.

Miss Travers,

We are very sorry for the delay in the delivery of this letter and hope that it did not cause you any inconvenience. It seems that the owl was lost and flying around Canterbury yesterday. In any case, we would like to welcome you to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry!

Desiree stopped reading and grinned. "You hear that? The owl was just lost. Probably a poor old thing."

Anthony nodded. "Yes, probably," he agreed. As Desiree continued to read, he half listened and let his mind drift back again to a newspaper clipping reporting the deaths of Steven and Catherine Weston. It was a very routine article. It had included their names, their ages, and their place of residence. They had been living in a small wizarding village on the outskirts of a muggle town. Canterbury.


	4. Chapter 4

Disclaimer: I am not JK Rowling

"And don't forget your gloves for herbology, I don't care if the other kids aren't wearing them, you don't want blisters," Anthony said as they walked down platform 9 ¾. Desiree rolled her eyes.

"Dad, I'm about to leave for several months and you're talking about blisters?" she asked. "Shouldn't you be telling me about all the candy you're going to send me and how to prank Gryffindors?"

Anthony smiled. "Oh, you think you're getting care packages do you?" he teased. He glanced at the red train in front of them, and turned to her, his face serious now. "Take care Des," he said wrapping his arms around her in a hug. "I'm going to miss you."

"Dad!" Desiree whispered, horrified. "Dad, stop hugging me! People might see!"

"Des, everyone's parents give them hugs goodbye, look see? Draco is getting a hug from his mother."

Desiree quickly twisted her head to see—if she could catch Malfoy in a motherly hug she'd have enough ammunition to keep her shut up for the train ride. She smirked triumphantly. "Okay, so some other people are getting hugs," she admitted. The train blew its whistle and she began to walk with him to board. At the door to the train she stopped, "I'll miss you to Daddy," she said suddenly throwing her arms around him. "Bye!"

Anthony returned the hug and then nodded. "You best get going," he said. "Or all the good spots will be taken." She nodded and he watched as she went up the stairs into the train. He stepped aside to let other parents and students get to the train but started searching the windows, knowing that she would appear in one soon. "Dad!" he turned and saw his daughter waving out of a window halfway down the train and hurried over. "Have fun!" he told her as the last students boarded the train. "And stay out of trouble—big trouble anyway." He watched as she laughed at that, but couldn't hear her over the sound of the train. "Write!" he called up to her, and she nodded. The train began to pull out of the station. "And Des!" he called, not knowing if he could hear her over the noise. "Don't forget your herbology gloves!"

The train had left the station. Desiree had looked out the window until her father was out of sight and then sat down on the seat with a sigh. Now what? She didn't really want to search out Malfoy and his stupid friends, but sitting alone didn't hold much appeal either. There was a knock on her door and she saw a girl with dark hair standing outside the compartment. She nodded letting the girl know she could come in. "Hi," the girl said stepping into the compartment. "Could I sit here? I was going to sit with one of my friends, Theo Nott, but he's decided to join a group of annoying boys. My name is Pansy by the way, Pansy Parkinson, what's yours?"

"Desiree Travers," Desiree said. "And yes, you may sit here," she said. "My friend—well he's only sort of a friend, is an annoying boy too," she said with a laugh. "Draco Malfoy, do you know him?"

"Malfoy?" Pansy repeated making a face. "Unfortunately. My parents invited his family over for dinner a few times, I swear that boy has flobberworms!"

Desiree laughed. "He definitely does!" she agreed. "What about your friend? Theo? Is he an annoying flobberworm infested boy?"

Pansy shook her head. "No, he's usually pretty nice, shy, but nice. But he'd rather hang out with boys then me right now I guess—I think Malfoy was in the compartment he was in. Hopefully he won't corrupt him."

"Malfoy's pretty stupid, he wouldn't know how to corrupt someone," Desiree said, pulling a package of chocolate frogs from her bag. "Do you want one?"

"Thanks!" said Pansy taking one. "I love these, though I don't collect the cards especially ones with Dumbledore on them," she said making a face at the card.

"I used to," Desiree admitted, "but yeah, if it's Dumbledore, get rid of it!"

"Do you read Teen Witch?" Pansy asked suddenly holding up a copy of the magazine. "I just bought this, we could look at all the pictures of hot wizards!"

Desiree grinned. "Okay!" she said taking a seat closer to Pansy so they could both see the magazine. "My Dad never buys these for me, he says I'm not a teen yet."

"So why don't you ask your Mum?" Pansy asked.

"I-I don't have a Mum," Desiree told her. "She died. When I was a baby."

"Oh, sorry."

Desiree shrugged. "Don't be, it's not like you did anything!" Then, to get the conversation away from the awkwardness she pointed out a picture. "That guy is definitely hot!"

Half an hour (and many hot wizards later) there was a knock on the door. The girls looked up from a picture of Leo Woodbury, teenage heartthrob rock star, to find a pale, pudgy boy looking into there compartment.

"Ugh, he's defiantly not Leo!" Pansy whispered as Desiree hid a giggle and went to answer the door. "Yes?" she said curiously looking at the boy—at least he didn't appear to be an annoying prat like Malfoy.

"Have either of you seen a toad?" the boy asked anxiously. "I lost mine."

"A toad?" Pansy asked glancing at him skeptically. "Only mudbloods bring toads, are you a mudblood?"

"No!" The boy said. "And that's not a nice word. But I'm a pureblood."

"Really?" Desiree asked, as she also knew that most purebloods would beg their parents for something a little more exciting than a toad—she had done so herself and therefore had a kitten to bring with her to school. "What's your name?" she asked the boy.

"Neville," he said quietly. Desiree rolled her eyes. "You're surname, stupid, any wizard or muggle could be named Neville!"

"Oh," the boy said. "Longbottom. I'm Neville Longbottom."

While Pansy didn't even try to cover the fit of giggles that came upon hearing the boy's name, Desiree stared at him with a mixture of horror and hatred. She had heard that name before. The aurors that had killed her parents they had been named—"Get out!" she said as she felt tears tugging at her eyes. She gave the boy a shove. "Get out you stupid blood traitor! And I hope your toad dies! If I see it I will kill it!" she shrieked pushing him into the corridor and slamming the door behind her. She turned to find Pansy staring at her in shock.

"Desiree? Are you okay? Did that kid do something to you? "

Desiree sat down, and shook her head. "No…I mean not him exactly." She shivered. "My family just doesn't get along with his family, that's all. A history." She said, not wanting to explain. Pansy seemed friendly, but she'd only known the girl for an hour and didn't want to reveal that the toad boy's parents had killed her mother.

Pansy nodded. "My parents have a few people they don't like either. So, he's a bloodtraitor?"

Desiree nodded. "Yeah…um, I don't really want to think about him right now. Can we go back to beautiful Leo?"

Pansy smiled. "Of course!" She flipped the magazine open again. "You know, it says here he's only 16, do you think he goes to Hogwarts?"

Desiree turned, a grin spreading across her face as the horror that had come with meeting the son of her mother's killers began to wash away. "Oh Merlin!" she shrieked, "He might!"

"He could be on this train right now!" Pansy added her eyes glittering in excitement.

"He could be across the hall!"

"He could walking by!"

The girls both got up at once racing to the compartment door and scurrying across the hall a look of disappointment spreading across their face when they saw that the only people inside were a group of second year Hufflepuffs.

"Well, he could have been there," Desiree said as they turned to go back to their compartment. A bell throughout the train announced that they should be switching into their robes. "Maybe he'll be in the great hall when we get there," she suggested pulling her new school robe from her trunk.

"What house do you think he'd be in?" Pansy asked. "Not Gryffindor I hope."

"He's too hot to be in Gryffindor. Maybe Ravenclaw?"

"Beauty and brains—nice combo, yeah, I like that. Let's search the Ravenclaw table for him. Though myself, I hope to be in Slytherin."

"Me too," Desiree confirmed. "My dad says that's the best one."

"He's right, of course, it's not only the best, it's really the only good one—well, except for whichever one Leo is in."

"Ravenclaw, remember?" Desiree laughed.

"Ah yes, Ravenclaw."

Having put on her robe, Desiree sat back down again and looked out the window. Her jaw dropped. "Pansy! Look!" she cried pointing out the window. Up ahead a castle loomed.

"Oh wow!" Pansy breathed. "It's amazing!" They continued to look out the window in awe until the train came to a halt. Grabbing their trunks they hurried off, looking around a bit confused until they heard a bellowing voice calling for first years. They turned to each other and grinned before making a dash toward the boats that would send them to Hogwarts.


	5. Sorting

**AN: After a long break, which included things like graduation and job searches, I am back to writing fan fiction. I know it's been forever since I updated this story, but I should update much more often now as I'd hate to abandon this fic again. **

**Disclaimer: I am not J.K. Rowling. I do not own the Harry Potter series. **

* * *

"Malfoy, Draco," the Deputy Headmistress called out. Desiree, who had spent most of the sorting unsuccessfully searching the Ravenclaw table for Leo Woodbury, turned her attention back to the ongoing event.

"Please not Slytherin," she whispered, "I don't know if I could put up with him as a housemate for seven years."

Pansy, who was standing next to her, laughed, "Maybe if we both wish real hard he'll be put in Hufflepuff," she suggested, "or we could—oh never mind," she sighed as Draco had barely sat down on the stool when the hat declared him a Slytherin.

Desiree groaned. "Great, so far that's Crabbe, Goyle, and Malfoy as the Slytherin boys. They might as well forfeit the House Cup right now, as those knuckleheads aren't going to be winning any house points."

The two girls continued to whisper until another name caught their attention. "Nott, Theodore!"

"Maybe Theo will give Slytherin a little hope," Pansy suggested, watching as her friend made his way to the stool. "I really couldn't see him in any other house, he's smart, but I don't think he's Ravenclaw material." The hat fell over Nott's eyes and both girls held their breath in anticipation. Fifteen seconds later, Theodore was declared a Slytherin.

"Well at least one of the boys in Slytherin won't be a prat," Desiree commented as Nott took his seat. She still hadn't met the boy, but she trusted Pansy's judgement.

Next came a small blonde girl who was sorted into Hufflepuff, and then -"Parkinson, Pansy!"

"Good luck," Desiree whispered to her new friend.

Pansy grinned, "I'll save a seat at the Slytherin table for you." She walked confidently toward the stool, and sat down. The hat fell over her eyes. Desiree waited, wondering how long it would take, when the brim of the hat opened. "Slytherin!" the hat announced. Pansy was wearing a huge grin as the hat was removed from her head, and she flashed Desiree a thumbs up before taking a seat at the Slytherin table.

A set of twin girls was sorted after Pansy, and then Mcgonagall called out a name that sent the entire hall into a frenzy. "Potter, Harry!"

Desiree knew about Harry Potter. He was the only known person to survive the killing curse, and in doing so he had also vanquished the Dark Lord. She had never met the boy, but from what her father told her of him, she disliked him. She hadn't known he would be in her year. Did that mean she would have to share classes with him? When he was sorted into Gryffindor she shuddered, making a note to stay away from friendships with Gryffindors. Longbottom ,and now Potter, had been sorted into the house, and that was enough reason to be wary of her red and gold clad classmates.

The sorting continued and Desiree waited, anxious when they finally reached the Ts. She was sure she was next when Mcgonagall skipped right over her, calling out a name that was further along alphabetically.

She panicked. Why hadn't her name been called? "Excuse me!" she called out and the boy who was about to sit down on the stool stopped. "Excuse me, Professor, but I believe you skipped my name. It's Travers, Desiree Travers."

Desiree was aware that the entire school was looking at her, and hoped she wasn't about to be embarrassed, or worse, scolded for interrupting the ceremony. Mcgonagall frowned and consulted the list. Then she smiled, "Ah, here we are, for some reason your name is listed after Weasley. There must have been a faulty alphabetical charm on the parchment. Well, I guess this serves as a good reminder that we all need to check our spellwork. Go ahead dear, come take a seat," she said motioning Desiree forward. Desiree smiled, and stepped up to the stool, giving the boy who had been about to sit down an apologetic look for making him wait another turn. She sat, and a moment later that hat fell down over her eyes.

"Hmmm very interesting," said a voice inside her head. "Miss…Travers?"

"That's me," Desiree replied, "I am so glad that it's finally my turn!"

The hat chuckled, "I'm sure you are. The question is where to put you!"

Desiree smiled, "Well that should be easy shouldn't it?" she thought back to the hat, "I belong with my friends in Slytherin."

"Oh yes, I see that you have many of the traits prized by Salazar Slytherin," the hat said, "But there's something more. Buried deep, but it is there."

Desiree frowned, "Well Daddy says I'm intelligent, but I really don't want to be in Ravenclaw, I'd much prefer Slytherin."

"I wasn't speaking of Ravenclaw, Miss Travers, though I'm sure your brains would be up to par. No, I don't believe you are aware of it, but I see a bit of Gryffindor in you."

Desiree was very glad the hat covered her eyes because she knew they were open in shock right then. "Please, not Gryffindor," she begged, "I could never fit in there. I already shouted at one of them on the train today!"

The hat chuckled again, "I'm not surprised by your reaction, though I take my job seriously and when I see something inside a student's mind I consider it. Very well, if not Gryffindor or Ravenclaw it better be Slytherin!"

The last word was shouted out to the Great Hall and Desiree let out a sigh of relief. As soon as the hat was off her head she got to her feet and hurried over to the Slytherin table before the hat could change its mind.

"What's the matter?" Pansy whispered as she took her seat, "You look a little upset."

"Still a little shaky from having my name being skipped," Desiree whispered back. Although she trusted Pansy, she did not want to tell anyone about what the hat had said. She was horrified that the hat found a bit of a Gryffindor trait in her, and she hated to think of how her new housemates would react if they knew what the hat had said.

"I would have had a heart attack if it were me," Pansy agreed, "I think you handled it very well. I bet whoever created that list is feeling awful stupid right now"

"Thanks," Desiree said smiling again. "I'm just glad it's over."

The rest of the sorting continued uneventfully. As soon as the feast appeared, Desiree realized how hungry she was, and any concerns created by the hat were forgotten.


End file.
